


Angel Fallen, Angel Bleeding

by I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning



Series: AU of an AU, Because We Can [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebellion Era - All Media Types
Genre: Extremely Dubious Consent, M/M, Multi, Past Rape/Non-con, Prostitution, Sith Obi-Wan, Vaderwan, Vampire Vader, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2018-10-24 23:03:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10751598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning/pseuds/I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning
Summary: Angel Obi-Wan, under the cruel grooming of Vampire Vader, finally gave in to the dark side. That's what Vader had hoped for, of course... but everything that happens next isn't... isn't.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU for my story The Blood of Angels, taking place after that story. While I don't believe that Obi-Wan would turn, this Obi-Wan started in that place. Not confused enough yet? Give me a couple more hours sleep and I'm sure I can make it more convoluted somehow.
> 
> The important take-away is that you don't have to read Blood of Angels first. It's just fine to jump in here.

 

“He's still inside.”  
Vader didn't stop long enough to determine which clone spy it was— that didn't matter.

What mattered was that he'd been forced to tramp through four levels of Coruscant's seedy underworld, mingling with the  _filth_ that lived there, in pursuit of someone who could just as easily be reclining in  _glory_ back at the palace.

As he stepped in the door, he belatedly realized this was not a  _bar._

He'd been too distracted upon arrival to notice it.

Sparkling lights that somehow failed to illuminate the curving room, divans occupied by naked or nearly-naked patrons—

Vader tried to rein in his senses, hating the overload of sheer  _chaos_ that plunged into his head. Desperation, despair, passion, pain, pleasure—

But this place didn't leave him with the impression people were happy here. Not those who worked here and not those who came to drown out their misery.

If hell existed, it might be something like this. The conviction that if they could just find release, perhaps they could escape their hopeless existence for just a few seconds.

Vader's lip curled in disgust.

He moved through the first room, using his eyes to search, careful to cloak himself in the Force.

He didn't want Obi-Wan running away. It had taken a  _week_ to find him this time, and Vader had no intention of going home  _without_ him.

He wasn't supposed to have to chain Obi-Wan anymore. That was the whole  _point_ of turning him to the dark side— so Obi-Wan would stay with him  _willingly_ and stop  _judging_ him.

In the two months since Obi-Wan's Fall, Darth Vader had never felt more judged in his life.

_He has no moral high ground left anymore, but that doesn't stop him._

A wanton moan shivered from the next room. Vader steeled himself against the revulsion he felt and stepped inside.

It was all he could do to stifle a yelp as he located Obi-Wan.

For a long moment, all his mind could manage were colorful curses.

And then he peered back again, just to make sure Obi-Wan hadn't run away.

His former master met his stare with a languid, uncaring glance. Another exaggerated moan dripped from his lips, his wings shuddering as a woman caressed them with lips and fingers.

Some  _man_ had his fingers up Obi-Wan's ass, stretching him, and another was kissing him, all tongue against his chest, over his arm—

Worst of all was the fact that Obi-Wan was dressed like one of the workers.

_Like he's a fripping whore._

Vader swept forward, Force repelling the slobberer away from  _his_ angel, and grabbing the shoulder of the one with  _fingers_ and throwing him backwards. The man yelped and skid across the floor. It probably left painful contact burns.

The thought pleased Vader.

The woman who was pressing wings against her body, and sliding feathers between her legs looked alarmed, crawling backwards away.

Vader  _hated_ the way some of those feathers glistened now.

How  _filthy_ Obi-Wan was, covered in saliva and—

Sweet Force—

His  _mouth—_ had he  _actually_ used his mouth to—

“Your Majesty,” Obi-Wan purred, spreading his legs. “Care to spend some of your wealth?”

Vader shoved his ankle over, wished the tiny drape of sheer that fell from the golden chain at Obi-Wan's hips could hide the arousal— or at least the fripping  _ring—_

That was new. The nipple rings weren't.

“You're coming home,” Vader growled, not caring who heard.

Obi-Wan widened eyes already made large with black rings carefully applied to his eyelids.

_He's wearing cosmetics now?_

“Certainly, Beautiful. But it's going to cost you extra.” He turned his head against the divan, baring his throat and allowing his breathing to accentuate it. “Pay even more, and you can bite me.”

Vader saw three sets of fang marks set in the milky skin, fangs not his own—

Rage flooded his vision. “What the  _frip_ do you think you're doing?” he hissed.

“I work here.” Obi-Wan shrugged.

Vader dragged frustrated fingers through his hair. “ _Why_ ? You don't need the  _money_ .”  
Obi-Wan shrugged. “Why _not_ ?”  
“Because you have a  _palace_ and an  _empire_ and an  _army_ and  _servants_ and  _me—_ ”

Obi-Wan rose, his movement fluid, feline—

Vader  _hated_ the way nearly every eye in the room followed the motion with clear hunger.

He glided to Vader, placed a hand on his chest, and rubbed suggestively against him.

Vader snarled and stepped away.

“You think I should be content,” Obi-Wan murmured, something dangerous in his half-closed eyes. He circled Vader like a predator. “You forget that contentment is a Jedi trait.”

“And when a Sith  _has it all_ , he should at least be able to relax!” Vader protested.

Obi-Wan fluttered eyelashes at him. “A Sith never has it all. A Sith is an endless hunger, a depthless want. It's throwing away what you have for something more, never satisfied, always thirsting, a fire that does not quench. It's killing the one who loves you because their love is no longer enough. It's a demand for something you can't even express to yourself, a siren's call just on the edge of your hearing range. It's a hunt for mirages and castles that never form, with a single-minded dedication to  _making them_ take shape. A Sith is not  _happy,_ your Majesty. If you think chasing your lusts will leave you happy, you're forgetting the most important part.”

Obi-Wan sank to his knees before Vader, staring up at him with what appeared to be submission, but his eyes told a  _vastly_ different story.

“Happiness isn't the goal.” Obi-Wan licked at Vader's robes.

Vader leaped backward, horrified that he was aroused, that  _Obi-Wan_ now knew he was.

Obi-Wan beckoned to him with his tongue, the flutter of movement disgusting Vader even  _further,_ which he hadn't believed possible.

Obi-Wan stood, turned to walk away, his hips swaying a bit more than strictly necessary, his ass bare, his back—

Vader felt cold, and in three steps he had a leather-covered hand gripping Obi-Wan's shoulder as he inspected the marks.

“Do you like them?” Obi-Wan purred, pushing his shoulder up and ducking his head to snag one of Vader's fingers in his mouth.

Vader absently pulled them away, too intent on sheer  _horror._

“Who did this to you?” he demanded, fingers nearly tracing the whip marks, but afraid to touch for fear of causing pain.

Obi-Wan pushed back against him, shivering in delight at the hurt it caused. “Do you really expect me to remember all of their names?”

Vader gripped Obi-Wan's wing to keep him from walking away. Obi-Wan hissed in pain, golden eyes finding Vader's in one of the tall mirrors.

The Fallen Obi-Wan had never once raised a hand against Vader.

But somehow, in that calm expression, something lurked behind the eyes that  _scared_ the younger Sith Lord.

“And how much do they have to pay to beat you?” Vader asked under his breath.

Obi-Wan looked amused, as if Vader were a naive youngling. “I pay  _them._ ”

“You don't enjoy pain. I  _know you._ You aren't _— why_ are you doing this?”

“Why don't you fetch one of the whips and find out?” Obi-Wan's voice was smoky now. “Wield it well enough and perhaps we'll just call it and you fripping me even and not worry about the money.”

Vader let go of him.

“There's no need to deny yourself now that I've Fallen,” Obi-Wan soothed. “You used to strike me with your fists and break my bones, crush my throat and drink my blood. Poured all of your hate into me and made me take your pleasure.”

Somehow, Vader would feel more comfortable if Obi-Wan sounded angry. Instead he was using flowery language for torture and rape, and he sounded  _hungry._ Needy.

“Isn't that what you want to do to me now?”

No.

It wasn't.

He wanted to take Obi-Wan home, hide away from every living being, curl up in front of the fire and  _hold_ him. To simply be  _together._ To  _sleep—_

“You showed me what I am,” Obi-Wan whispered, his eyes delighted. “You fripped me into every available surface. You whispered my name in my ears.  _'Whore, whore, whore._ Take it, Whore, Take  _me._ Know your  _place_ —'” Obi-Wan's impersonation of Anakin's voice ended with a grunt and snapped hips.

The observers around the room were drooling now.

“I didn't mean it,” Vader murmured. “Come home. Please.”

Obi-Wan watched him, and for a long moment Vader thought he would say yes. That he would let Vader wrap his cloak around him, cover him, take him back to where his wounds could be tended, and the filth washed from his body, where he would be _worshiped_ by the most powerful man in the universe, the man who had eyes for _only_ _him—_

And then a mocking smile spilled across Obi-Wan's face. “You made the gravest mistake of all,” he murmured. “You fell in love with a prostitute. Pay me, Lord Vader, and I'll indulge your fantasies another night. I'll be your precious little lover. I'll hold you and whisper in your ear that it's all going to be alright.”

Vader couldn't look at him anymore.

Instead, his gaze skittered away.

Obi-Wan beckoned one of the patrons over, stark naked and impressively eager. Obi-Wan shoved him against the divan, settled over him, and plunged the man's length deep inside.

His eyes fell closed, his lips parted, his hand reached out for Vader. “Make me submit,” he rasped. “Crush my throat with the Force, with your hands, impale it with your teeth— make me yours, make me scream—” His head lolled back as his hand found his own length and set a pace to match his desperate riding of the man beneath him. “ _Doll_ !”

The woman who'd been fondling his wings earlier returned, murmuring words of praise and encouragement as she knelt beside them, pressing her body against his wings, taking feathers in her mouth.

Vader turned to leave, unable to endure more—

Until he heard Obi-Wan's delighted sounds cut off into choking.

He spun around and found a third patron silencing  _his_ master with fingers like durasteel.

Enough.

Vader reached out with the Force, dragging Obi-Wan off and away, leaving the three who'd been using him to stare after their lost toy in surprise. Obi-Wan's throat connected with his hand, and golden eyes found his, lost in a haze of pleasure.

“I knew you couldn't resist,” Obi-Wan slurred.

But he  _could,_ and he  _did._

He'd dragged Obi-Wan through the streets and back to where he  _belonged_ and up to their bedchambers and locked the door before he took Obi-Wan.

He expended his anger into the older man's body, beating him the way he had back when he'd still been a Jedi.

Only Vader had never  _hated_ him quite so much back then.

Obi-Wan submitted, laughing as ribs cracked, gleefully urging Vader on, provoking him further.

No fear, no sanity.

When Vader finally realized what he was doing, saw the terrible marks around Obi-Wan's throat, saw blood and shattered bone and his come rubbed in Obi-Wan's eyes, he wanted to look away in horror.

Obi-Wan's Fall was supposed to  _fix_ this, so he would never have cause to hurt him  _again—_

Obi-Wan smiled up at him, the Force ringing with the off-key knell of his satisfaction.

Feeling humiliated,  _hating_ himself, hating  _Obi-Wan,_ Vader went to gather med supplies.

He returned to find Obi-Wan lolling on the bed, sucking his own blood from his fingers.

Without a word, Vader began to patch him up. Obi-Wan made no move to hinder his ministrations, but he didn't seem particularly interested either.

He moaned and giggled as Vader set bones, binding them with bacta.

“I must play with you more often,” he purred. “I might even give you a discount.”

Vader ignored him.

Obi-Wan's sense turned vicious in an instant and he sat up, looming over Vader. “You will pay me. I don't frip you for free.”

“Obi-Wan, I—”

“You'll call me by my title or not at all.”

“Emperor?” Vader wasn't entirely sure what he meant.

Obi-Wan shoved him aside and stood, fully comfortable with his naked and broken form. “You've been nagging me to choose a Sith name for two months now, Vader. You'll be pleased to know I've found it.”

Dread closed over Vader's soul.

“Darth Whore,” Obi-Wan announced with cold dignity, a freezing aloofness that befitted the Emperor title well.

“I'm not calling you that,” Vader snarled.

Obi-Wan's sneer burned  _deep._ How could a man who'd so clearly  _lost it_ make Vader feel so  _small_ ?

He didn't have the heart to protest when Obi-Wan walked out the door, the tattered fabric still hanging to the gold chain by a couple stubborn threads. It didn't cover his master's nakedness whatsoever.

_He's going to march all the way to his chosen room without ever caring how many people see him._

Vader groaned and sank to the floor, bracing his forearms against his knees.

His hands had Obi-Wan's blood on them.

It smelled just as good as it had a lifetime ago, but the scent made him gag.

 

* * *

 

Vader dragged a hand down his face as he tried to listen to what his military officers were saying.

He had a pounding headache, and all he could think of was the night before, of Obi-Wan's broken body and Vader fripping into his mouth, Obi-Wan's pained choking, coming not down his throat but all over his face, his thumbs forcing Obi-Wan's clenched eyelids to admit the fluid that would burn.

Obi-Wan writhing in his grip, pleasure sparkling through the Force in response to Vader's cruelty.

Vader closed his eyes, but that only made the images clearer.

When he opened them again, he found the attention of his men split. Half were staring at him, trying to conceal their impatience, frustrated with his lack of focus on the strategy they were proposing.

The other half covertly stared at the newest member of the group.

Obi-Wan was lounging on the comm panel at the side of the room.

At least the man was fully clothed, and had washed the false colors from his face.

“I'm busy,” Vader said, directing his words to his significant other.

Obi-Wan didn't say a word, he simply watched with bored indifference.

Vader did his best to ignore him.

He had enough trouble on his plate with the rebels cropping up in every sector.

The only good thing about this mess was they weren't organized.

“You're welcome to  _help,_ ” Vader spoke up after an hour of struggling with the military minds. They did  _not_ see things his way, and they were dragging their feet.

He would have just  _made_ them do it, except for the fact that one piece was eluding him too.

He could use the brilliant mind lounging behind him.

Instead a feather floated over his head and down his nose to land on the holotable.

Coated in dried blood and stinking of come it lay there, the shaft broken, once a thing of beauty, now...

_Yes, yes. I get the point. I wrecked you._

Vader's frustration simmered.  _You don't seem too upset about it, except for this..._ this thing  _you keep doing to me._

His admirals and generals were looking at him pointedly.

All of them silently asking what the  _frip_ a civilian was doing there.

He was too tired to care that every one of them was, in their hearts, questioning their Emperors.

 

* * *

 

Two days dragged by.

Obi-Wan had always been passive aggressive.

_Now_ ? It was unendurable. 

Vader fled the palace midday of that second rotation, half determined  _never_ to return. Let Obi-Wan  _have_ the empire. It would be in shambles within the week.

Vader wasn't sure he the  _frip_ cared anymore.

Not knowing  _why_ he was doing so, he contacted Satine.

The stare she greeted him with brought memories of Obi-Wan's current hobby uncomfortably to mind.

_He wants to drive me to insanity._

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Satine's voice was cold.

Vader rested his head against his fist. “It's Obi-Wan.”  
“What about the Emperor?”

_He's going to drive me into taking a lightsaber to my own head._

“I need to know how to coax him out of a snit.”

Satine arched her eyebrows at him. “Oh?”

“Yeah. It's been two months now, and I'm going crazy. Certifiably. It's  _never_ been like this before.”

“You never loosed the demon within before.”

“He's  _selling his body,_ Satine, in the lower levels, and I don't—”

She looked bored.

_Frip you people who refuse to just blow up._

He  _hated_ it. He wanted them to yell and scream at him, not sneer and smile.

_Frip you all._

“I'm just slightly curious what you  _thought_ would happen.”

_We would be together again, only even better._

“Satine, just tell me how to calm him down.”

“Is he  _not_ calm?”

“He's whoring himself out and letting random strangers  _flog_ him and he comes home with broken bones and fang wounds in his neck—”

“And I don't suppose you inflict any of those types of injuries yourself.” She sounded skeptical.

“I  _never_ take a  _whip_ to him,” Vader snarled, the specter of slavery dragging claws down his back.

Satine shrugged. “I'm sure the difference means the world to him.”

“He's not my fripping prisoner!”

“Not anymore, no.” A dark smile touched her eyes, not making it to her lips. “You're  _his_ prisoner.”

And Force frakking  _damn_ it, but she was  _right._

“And your Excellency, the next time you want advice on how to woo  _my love,_ go shove your lightsaber up your ass.”

Stunned, Vader stared at where the holo  _used_ to be.

Mandalore might be technically neutral, but it was  _also_ technically part of the Empire.

_And she's reached the point where she just doesn't care anymore._

He came home to discover Obi-Wan had smashed the furniture in one of the visiting rooms, built a massive bonfire in the middle of the floor, and was strewing coals around the tiles. His boots lay scattered in the hallway, and he was in the process of rolling up his pants when Vader stepped in.

The heat of the flames beat against his skin, and a dark stain was spreading across the ceiling where it licked.

_We'll be lucky if it doesn't catch._

“What are you doing?” Vader asked, weary enough the question didn't even have bite. Or volume.

“Walking across coals.”

“ _Why_ ?” Vader realized he sounded more injured than angry. Scratch that. He didn't sound angry at  _all._ Just exhausted.

“Personal amusement.”

That seemed to be the reason for  _everything_ Obi-Wan did these days.

“I have little interest in treating severe burns on the bottom of your feet,” Vader sighed. “ _Or_ of having the palace catch fire. Perhaps we could call the experiment over?”  
“You told me the dark side could do anything,” Obi-Wan tossed back, balancing on the burned down chunks of wood.

Vader cringed at the sizzle of flesh and the stink that followed. “Force,  _stop—_ ”

Obi-Wan's breathing hitched, and he took another step, then another—

Vader saw blood stain the floor, heard the whimper under Obi-Wan's breath.

“Emperor Kenobi, that's  _quite_ enough,” Vader snapped, using the Force to lift Obi-Wan from the floor and drag him back into the hall. He sent a call through his comlink to the caretaker droids to deal with the ten-foot-tall flames, and tossed Obi-Wan over his shoulder, hauling him back to his room.

Obi-Wan didn't resist. Instead he contented himself with pinching Vader's ass over and over again, as if placing points for a connect-the-dots.

“Force  _damn_ you,” Vader snarled, throwing him against the wall.

Instead of responding in anger, Obi-Wan wrapped his legs around his middle, dragging Vader's groin to his own.

“I should put you on some sort of suppressants,” Vader muttered, tearing away and lifting him like he would a child this time. “Your sex drive is ridiculous.”

“There is nothing else to  _do,_ ” Obi-Wan explained primly. “I'm bored.”

Vader gave him a look of horrified disbelief. “Aren't there... planets to bring relief aid to? Soldiers to boss around so they don't harass civilians—?”

“Aren't you adorable.” Obi-Wan leaned back as far as he could, as if trying to drag his fingers on the floor. It made holding on to him difficult. “Let the planets burn and the soldiers pillage.”

“This isn't  _you,_ Obi-Wan. The sooner you snap out of it and go back to normal, the sooner we can make this empire something  _good._ I didn't get rid of Palpatine so we could be just like him or worse.”

Obi-Wan squirmed out of his arms, damaged feet hitting the floor and slipping out from under him, the blood sending him flat on his back.

Vader grimaced. “Feeling better now?”

“The podracing in the underworld. I wonder if I could find my way down there again.”  
Vader remembered when Obi-Wan had caught him at it, back when he was twelve.

The thought of Obi-Wan attempting one of those tracks sent panic jolting down his spine.

“You'll end up dead.”

“As long as it's amusing right up until the end, I'm not sure why that matters.” Obi-Wan shrugged. “Who should give a frip?”

“ _I_ would.” Vader grabbed his arm and dragged him to his feet, making him  _walk_ down the hall.

He refused to look back to see the bloody footprints they left in their wake.

It wasn't just Obi-Wan leaving them.

Vader had stepped in his blood and was now trailing it too.

It felt more symbolic than he was anywhere near comfortable with.

 

* * *

 

“I don't see  _how_ they could have escaped,” Yularen grumbled, “the only reasonable conclusion is that they had intel.”

Vader wanted to crush his skull in.

He'd had several sleepless nights once he realized Obi-Wan was swift becoming the talk of the podracing world.

_He_ hates  _flying, he_ hates  _it with a bitter passion. He's not doing it for himself. He's doing it to spite me._

The sheer amount of  _thought_ and  _effort_ Obi-Wan was putting into his campaign of terror was astounding.

_His dedication to destroying me is... if he would just aim that against the_ rebels,  _perhaps this conflict would be_ over  _already._

“They certainly had intel,” Obi-Wan spoke up from his comm panel seat. He was plucking feathers from his wings and making sculptures out of them in the air with the Force. “I told them what you were planning.”

Vader turned on him, something terrible blooming in his heart. “You  _what_ ?”

A storm of feathers assailed him, shafts forward, tiny needles of pain as they struck.

Just like all of Obi-Wan's aggressions. Intangible, weightless, like the feathers.

Millions of tiny knives, too finely tipped to draw blood.

“Emperor Vader, unless we are  _serious_ about this war effort, we  _will not win,_ ” Tarkin hissed.

Obi-Wan looked  _bored,_ as if he hadn't just admitted to treason in the most sacred chamber of the empire's power.

“ _Why_ would you tell them?” Vader grit out between clenched teeth.

Obi-Wan shrugged. “Same reason I put them in contact with one another and organized them.”

Betrayal seized Vader's heart.

“Permission to resign Emperor Whore into custody for high treason,” Tarkin requested.

Vader squeezed his eyes shut.

Obi-Wan had been adamant and  _loud_ with his chosen name.

Vader had tried to keep a lid on it, but that had been doomed to failure.

Obi-Wan reprogrammed all the droids to sing the name along with filthy lyrics to a little tune.

The din had been tremendous....

And the timers had been staggered, so just when they thought they'd purged the problem, another would start in, his voice drifting along the air ducts through the palace.

Anakin had thought 3PO the worst.

That was until R2 started in with it in binary.

He had honest to  _Force_ pulled hair out of his head.

“You do  _not_ have permission,” he growled at Tarkin. “Obi-Wan, a  _word_ ?”

Obi-Wan didn't seem to have heard.

And Vader knew he  _wouldn't_ until he used  _that name._

And he was  _not_ going to.

He grabbed Obi-Wan's throat in the Force and dragged him from his perch, all the way to the holotable. “ _Look at that._ Don't you  _see?_ It's a full-scale  _war_ now, Obi-Wan! Wasn't the Clone War enough? Wasn't that  _enough_ destruction and death and pain?”  
“No.” Obi-Wan's eyes swept the troop placements with satisfaction. “The universe will _burn._ You'll tear one another apart.”  
“And I suppose  _this_ too is because it amuses you?” Vader hissed, his fingers tightening their hold on Obi-Wan's throat.

Obi-Wan spread his legs and flicked his tongue at Vader. “Chaos,” he whispered, dragging in labored breaths. “Frip me, Lord Vader. Here, now, on this table—  _take_ me, make me your bitch.”

“ _Force_ you make me sick.” Vader threw him on the floor. “Do you have  _any idea_ what a  _setback_ this is?” He raised his voice, but Obi-Wan only chuckled. Lord Whore writhed against the floor, palming his crotch and moaning.

Tarkin ripped the code cylinders from his uniform, slapped them on the table, met Vader's gaze and said clearly, “I quit.”

And then he walked out.

Yularen looked tried to the  _breaking_ point, and he stared longingly after his younger colleague. And then he looked back to Vader and Whore.

“Lord Vader, this situation  _might_ be redeemable.”

_He has_ hope _? He shouldn't. Obi-Wan has decided he wants the universe to burn._

_Burn it will._

He hadn't felt  _this_ hopeless and impotent since Padmé's death.

He'd wanted to bring peace, end the war.

He'd been so  _fripping close,_ it was  _done—_

And Obi-Wan had casually knocked over all his hard work, the agony of effort it had taken to calm the galaxy to the point of cohesion.

“You may want to refrain from explaining  _how_ until I have removed  _Lord Whore_ from the room.”

His own words froze in his throat as he  _realized—_

His gaze flicked to Obi-Wan, who lay still and silent, eyes demon bright.

Obi-Wan stood, a graceful movement, held Vader's eye contact, made a sweeping bow, and sauntered from the room.

_He's rewarding me for compliance._

Vader wished he could tear his own vocal cords out. Ten seconds ago.

“Is he gone?” Yularen asked.

Vader stretched out with the Force, found Obi-Wan happily headed for the speeder bay.

Dread pooled in Vader's gut. “Yes, Admiral.”  
But if Obi-Wan wasn't in sight and wreaking havoc...

He'd be causing it somewhere else.

And not knowing what his plan was made the terrible feeling of impending disaster and nausea  _worse._

_I'm never going to have a good night's rest again._

Ever.

If he could lock Obi-Wan away on Mortis and lose the key, he'd be sorely tempted, except for the fear of what Obi-Wan might find to  _do_ there.

The man's capacity for destruction was apparently without limit.

Good thing Vader had already put a stop to that ridiculous and Force-insulting  _Death Star_ project. Sidious had been such an idiot.

But if that technology had been actually worked out, and Obi-Wan still  _lived_ ?

Vader suppressed a shudder.

“Captain Parck has returned from the Unknown Regions.”

“I'm sorry. Who?”

Yularen pursed his lips for a brief moment, then continued. “Parck. Emperor Palpatine had interest in the areas of space currently unexplored by us. He was sent to investigate. He found something out there. Someone. He's been traveling with Parck ever since.”

“Yes?”  
“He may be able to help us with this...  _war_ problem.”

“By all means, send for him. We'll see if we can keep Obi-Wan's hands and tongue off him long enough to get anything accomplished.”

He and Yularen shared a long-suffering look.  
  


 

Epilogue~

 

 

“You have beautiful eyes.” Obi-Wan ran his hands over the alien's shoulders, trailing them down a bicep as he completed his circle around the man.

Vader just wanted it to be over.

Despite his best efforts, Obi-Wan had managed to be present when Thrawn landed.

_ Any chance to thwart or humiliate me. _

Obi-Wan stood before Thrawn, mere inches separating them. A powerful, pale hand snaked out and dragged the blue-skinned man's hips against his, and Obi-Wan devoured his mouth.

Vader could sense Thrawn's surprise and distinct displeasure with the current situation, but he made no move to resist.

_Still trying to discern the lay of the land in this new, strange universe,_ Vader supposed.

Obi-Wan freed him, chuckling over his lack of interest. “Aren't you a treasure. I'll let Lord Vader have first taste.”  
And with that, he sashayed from the room.

Thrawn turned to Vader, a grim set to his jaw, and resignation in his sense.

“Be at ease,” Vader said dismissively, “I'm not the one who frips anything that holds still long enough.”

Vader moved closer to inspect the back of the officer's uniform—

And with a long-suffering sigh plucked a tracker from the collar.

“Just so you're aware, I don't track my people this way. You may want to dust your clothing out regularly, and you have my full permission to destroy any of these little devices you find. Trust me. You won't find  _my_ surveillance.”

Vader turned to leave, feeling grim resignation. “You may want to check your molars too. I wouldn't put it past him to have tried to glue something back there.”

And while Thrawn's fingers sank into his mouth, eyes narrowed in either disbelief or annoyance, Vader chuckled to himself and walked away.

Force, he hated his lover.

But at least he could out-maneuver him long enough to stay afloat.

 

* * *

 

Three years of hell later, Vader found himself lying broken on the ground, staring up into cold, ocher eyes.

“ _How_?” Vader whispered, feeling the flames of his Empire flare around him, sensing the shattered destruction raging through the Force on a thousand worlds.

“You became so accustomed to flare that you stopped seeing me walk down the middle of the street in broad daylight with a cloak. So used to fishing my listening devices out of your arse that you missed what was right in front of you.”

Vader saw no mercy in those eyes, in that voice—

_I should never have turned you._

He'd thought a light side Obi-Wan had been a pain in his Sith life?

That had been  _nothing._

And now it was all gone.

Obi-Wan stood waiting, watching.

“What more do you  _want_ from me?” Vader screamed at him.

A sick smirk crossed Obi-Wan's face. “Nothing.”

Vader could read more in his face.  _You broke me, but now I've manipulated you into breaking yourself._

Seeing his point had been made, Obi-Wan turned on his heel and slowly meandered off.

“Don't you leave me!” Vader shrieked after him, struggling to his knees, then stumbling after him only to land flat on his face again. “Don't you  _dare_ walk away!”

“The Rebel leadership will be here soon,” Obi-Wan sing-songed. “Led by young princess Leia Skywalker.”

Vader's throat closed. “ _What—_ ?”

“She'll be here to demand your surrender, and probably your head.”

“ _What did you call her?_ ”

“The Organas adopted twins.” Obi-Wan's steps didn't slow. “And do they  _burn_ with righteous hatred for the Empire and its corrupt and murderous ruler.”

“Padmé  _died,_ she  _died and lost the bab—_ ”

Obi-Wan turned around, continuing to walk backwards, his wings flared out around him like a vile halo of beauty. “You took everything from me. Was it too unimaginative of me to give it back to you? Ah— no, actually. I did you one better. The security footage from Padmé's ship. Your children have seen it. Seen their mother begging with you to leave it all and stop the killing—”

“ _Please—_ ”

“And of you murdering her. They're coming for blood, your Highness. They're coming for yours.”

And with that, his wings launched him into the sky and away from Vader's line of sight, and he never once looked back.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

The door groaned, light spilling into the cell.

Vader threw up his arm, squinting, wondering what could possibly have convinced his daughter to allow anyone in to see him.

He wasn't entirely sure his voice still worked to ask. He'd gone too many years without speaking.

There wasn't anyone— or any _thing—_ to speak to.

They certainly didn't send him anything to eat.

A familiar scent strolled into the room, and as Vader's eyes adjusted, he realized its owner was absolutely, completely naked.

“Here to torture me  _more_ ?” Apparently his voice still worked.

Obi-Wan shrugged, wings twitching a bit. “I'm bored. _Very_ bored. The New Republic wanted me for a hero, and the Imperial Remnant dried out. Everyone's been too busy knocking each others' castles over for any of them to get tall enough to be _fun_ to knock over.” Obi-Wan looked disgusted. “Your _son_ bribed my _boss_ to fire me, and the other skilled houses won't _hire_ me because _your son_ has made _arrangements_ and your _daughter_ has made _threats._ I had to go to _Nar Shaddaa_ before I was able to find an actual house that would _take_ me!”

“Why should my children give a kark about you?” Vader wondered, baffled.

“That's  _exactly_ what I want to know. Apparently they think they that since I toppled you I'm supposed to be  _harassed_ the rest of my life—? But there isn't anybody on Nar Shaddaa that frips worth a damn, and like I said, I was bored.”

Vader just stared at him.  _How many decades now, and he hasn't changed a bit._ “You broke into the New Republic's highest security prison because you want to get  _laid_ ?”  
“ _No,_ ” Obi-Wan drawled out, “I want to be  _taken._ I want  _feathers torn out_ , I want  _blood spilled,_ I want blood  _drunk,_ I want bones  _snapped,_ I want claws so deep in my arms fingernails scratch marks into my bones.”

Vader scoffed. “You think, after  _everything_ you did, you can just twerk your way in here and I'd frip that ass? I'm not that desperate. Thank you.”

And there's no way in  _hell_ he was going to raise a hand against Obi-Wan either. The lunatic always seemed to win in that scenario.

And Vader'd had quite enough of  _losing._

“Your cock isn't  _that_ good,” Obi-Wan scorned. “I wouldn't have gone to all this effort just to experience it for  _one evening._ What do you think I am?”

Oh, there were  _so_ many ways he could answer  _that_ question.

“This is a breakout.”

Vader laughed. “You decided to operate a breakout of  _this prison_ naked.”

Thin hands snaked up to press along a pulsing throat while Obi-Wan whispered, “You say you're not desperate, but have they been feeding you?” Fingernails touched skin, and Vader felt trembling begin in his own hands as he watched. “I think you're more hungry than you wish to admit.”

_I have_ some  _dignity left, dammit, it's about the_ only  _thing, I'm not giving it to you!_

Obi-Wan turned, spread his legs, wings drooping down to flutter suggestively. “I'm open and ready for you,” he crooned. “Tight and hot and  _needy_ and I've  _missed you._ ”

“Maybe you shouldn't have completely  _destroyed_ what we had, then,” Vader snarled.

Obi-Wan turned doe eyes on him over his bare shoulder. “Show me? Show me how sorry I should be?”  
“No. And you can save your jailbreak. I'm not going anywhere with you.”

Obi-Wan's entire posture shifted to grumpy. He turned back around, paced over to Vader, and then plopped to sit cross-legged in front of him, almost close enough for their knees to touch.  
“Don't you have a  _time window_ ?” Vader reminded, wishing he would  _leave._

Obi-Wan rested an elbow on his knee, then propped his chin in his palm, staring at Vader's face. “I really did break you,” he mused, delight lurking in his eyes.

“You did  _not_ .”

“Yes, I did. You don't even have the will to avenge yourself on me.”  
Vader sent him an ugly look. “Given how badly you want me to physically injure you,  _doing so_ seems like a  _poor_ choice for  _revenge._ ”

“Too bad you'll never be able to convince your children to love you.”

“ _Force,_ I'll take solitary confinement over you, any day.”

“ _Admit it!_ It was beautiful. The flames of your fall. The sparks went  _everywhere._ So pretty,” Obi-Wan singsonged. “But they're all  _gone,_ and there  _is_ someone big enough to go after, but there's no real  _point._ ”

“I thought you said all the castles were too tiny,” Vader deadpanned.

Obi-Wan snickered. “There's a castle made of Snoke.”

“Smoke doesn't seem to be a very good construction material.”

Obi-Wan lazed a smile. “It certainly isn't.”  
“So why haven't you done something yet?”  
“Because I need a really, _really_ good frip.”

“Too bad.”

“Snokie is taking out your daughter.”

Vader shrugged. “Haven't seen her since she condemned me to this place. Not a note, not a call, nothing.”

“She's been fighting desperately to figure out a way to overthrow Snoke, but he's toasted the New Republic, and it's all falling down again.”

“Why am I supposed to care?”

“Your son ran away and is missing. Oh. You have a grandson now.”

Vader's heart leaped into his throat. “I what?”  
“Mmm. Too much human in him to even have any hints of the fact that he had a vampire in his line. Sad.”

“How old is he?”

Obi-Wan considered. “Almost thirty?”

“ _Frip,_ ” Vader cursed. And  _nobody_ thought to tell him. For almost  _thirty years,_ nobody bothered to  _tell him_ he was a grandfather now? What was  _wrong_ with his children—

“Yes please,” Obi-Wan said primly, looking terrifyingly innocent as he watched Vader's lips.

When Vader clamped them shut, Obi-Wan sighed and continued. “And he killed his daddy and Leia's heartbroken. Sort of.”

“Tell me it  _wasn't_ that  _loser_ she was with when you betrayed me—”

Obi-Wan shrugged. “I couldn't see the appeal either,” he admitted. “What was mildly aggravating was how your son refused  _all_ of my advances—”

“You tried to seduce my  _son_ ?” 

“And your daughter. At the same time, actually. I would have even allowed that smuggler in if that's what it took, but—”

Vader hadn't realized he was going to  _do_ something until he had Obi-Wan's torso pressed back to the floor, his knees still locked where they'd been, a fist tight in Obi-Wan's hair, pulling his head back at a painful angle. “Off limits,” Vader hissed. “My children are  _off limits._ ”

Obi-Wan looked up at him, delighted. “Welcome back,” he murmured, reaching up to stroke Vader's bicep through ragged robes.

And then Vader was kissing him, just to shut him  _up,_ and because— yes, he must really be pathetic— he'd missed him too.

“How,” he muttered, pressing his closed fangs against skin without breaking it, just pulling back his lips so he could feel the shudders that ran through himself and his lover each time, “would  _you,_ ” again, “like it,” another press, Obi-Wan moaned, “if  _I,_ ” Obi-Wan's hands were frantically petting him now, “tried to seduce  _Satine—_ ?”

He was hit in the head with a wing so hard it knocked him to the side and  _hurt._ No kark, that  _hurt badly—_

Obi-Wan was crouched, one knee drawn up, the other nearly touching the ground as his wings gathered around him in an unspoken threat. “Don't you  _dare,_ ” he hissed.

“Have you even gone to see her?” Vader asked, not very surprised by the reaction.

Obi-Wan didn't move, but utter anguish entered his eyes. “Once,” he admitted. “Two days ago.” His gaze dropped to his arms, and he offered them to Vader's gaze.

The vampire saw the jagged fingernail marks down the wrists, barely scabbed over.

_She fripping loves you._

And the fallen Obi-Wan certainly would have had the skill and power to escape Vader at any time through the years and  _go_ to her. Live a life with her.

_But there is always a price to pay to wield the dark,_ Vader mused.  _And it's taken too much of himself away._

This weird, twisted shell that looked and  _sounded_ and  _tasted_ like Obi-Wan....

Vader felt his heart ache.

Clearly Obi-Wan felt the pain as well.

“So you tried to end it and failed and now you're here tempting  _me_ to.”

Obi-Wan's lip quivered. “Kill me, or take my thoughts away,” he whispered.

And suddenly Vader realized he didn't  _need_ to take revenge on his angel.

_We really have destroyed one another._

Vader moved closer, standing staring down at the pathetic wreck before him. Obi-Wan simply waited, all lust and carelessness gone, only anguish left.

_This is the true face of what it means to be Sith. When the political power leaves, when your armies are spent and your followers turned to dust, when you've ruled until you're sick of what was never going to be enough..._

_You run. Hoping to outpace this._

_But unless you die, eventually you won't run fast enough._

He knelt, took Obi-Wan's chin in his fingers.

Obi-Wan waited to see if Vader would snap his neck.

Instead, Vader pressed a gentle kiss to the side of his mouth.

Obi-Wan shattered, weeping, great heaving sobs, and Vader gathered him close, pressing his nose into Obi-Wan's neck and holding him through the agony.

_You would have been happier if instead of pursuing power you simply returned to Satine._

And after decades of silence and  _thought,_ Vader knew what  _he_ wanted.

He wanted his daughter to  _look_ at him. To at least not  _revile_ him.

“This Snoke,” he murmured, pressing kisses to Obi-Wan's throat and letting his hand trail to caress Obi-Wan's ass. The angel shuddered in his arms. “You said Leia doesn't stand a chance against him?”

“Not really,” Obi-Wan admitted. “And Ben's being an idiot.”

Vader scowled. “They named him for  _you_ ?”

“Yes.” Obi-Wan looked just a little smug through the tears.

Vader thrust a finger up Obi-Wan's ass, causing his angel to keen in discomfort. “They think  _I'm_ despicable?  _I'm_ disgusting? But they name their child after  _you_ ?”

Obi-Wan writhed against him, hands scrabbling at clothes to pull them away just enough to free Vader's cock. “Need, need— yes, yes,  _disgusting Lord Whore,_ show him how  _despicable_ he is, make the wrong  _right—_ ”

Vader glanced up at the door. “Not quite yet,” he murmured, stabbing a second finger into Obi-Wan's entrance.

Obi-Wan choked.

“That's my good Lord Whore,” Vader crooned. “We're going to get out of here, and then I will frip you into the nearest wall and make you bleed.”  
Obi-Wan moaned in frustration and delight. “No, no,  _now—_ ”

“Patience, master,” Vader murmured, enjoying Obi-Wan's frustration, and driving a third finger mercilessly into him. “You thought you didn't need me. Now you know better. We did what you want for a time. It wasn't very much fun, was it?”  
“No, no, no,” Obi-Wan panted,  _desperate—_

“So now we do things  _together._ ”

“Yes—!”

“We will take out Snoke and give his head on a platter to Leia—”

Obi-Wan wasn't listening, he was pressing kisses to Vader's throat and rocking back against the unyielding fingers.

“I will _convince_ her—”

“ _Yes—_ ”

“And you will knock over the  _biggest_ castle out there left.”

“Yes!”

“Now pull yourself together, Lord Whore, and get me out of here.”

The madman's eyes cleared and he stood, sliding free of Vader's fingers.

“This way.” Obi-Wan slipped his hand into Vader's, an almost childish gesture, and then pulled him out the door.

Vader saw one of the security cams turn to follow them. “You didn't disable the cams?”  
“Goodness, not  _all_ of them,” Obi-Wan chuckled, pausing to slowly writhe his body in time to music only he could hear, making sure anyone watching the feed would have a good look before dancing off to drag Vader down the hallway. “Why would I pass up a chance to advertise?”

 

* * *

 

It  _really_ shouldn't have surprised Vader to wake up and find Obi-Wan gone, the trail of blood marking his path.

So apparently the vague aftercare Vader had attempted the night before hadn't been quite enough. Not surprising.

They'd managed to get out of the prison before Vader's thirst became something beyond endurance.

He'd drained enough blood from Obi-Wan to leave the angel somewhat giddy from oxygen loss before they even began the rest of their dance.

Given the number of broken bones, Vader was surprised Obi-Wan had managed to walk out of here at  _all._ As Obi-Wan lay panting and nearly glowing with contentment, Vader had begun to set those he'd broken, whispering soothing encouragement and hushing Obi-Wan's responding cries.

He thought for sure Obi-Wan would sleep 'till noon. Usually did.

But no.

He was gone.

Vader lounged around the vacant house Obi-Wan had brought him to. Clearly Obi-Wan used it as a hideyhole, because the bedroom had old sprays of blood across the walls that, according to their smell, definitely belonged to Obi-Wan, as well as broken feathers lying in corners.

_Where did you go?_

Obi-Wan came limping back home several hours later, offering up no explanation of his whereabouts.

When Vader loomed into his space as he stepped through the door, Obi-Wan's head rolled back, and he angled his body in a clear show of submission. It tickled Vader in all the right ways, but he knew better than to trust it.

“I have the location for the First Order,” Obi-Wan offered up, since Vader didn't immediately initiate violence. “The  _Finalizer,_ anyway. Good place to start.”  
“Anyone of importance on board?”

“The master of the Knights of Ren.”

“Knights of Ren?” Vader repeated, frowning.

Obi-Wan shrugged. “Young Force wielders. Think they're better because they're new.”  
Vader huffed a sigh. “Young people are stupid.”

Obi-Wan got a very mildly irritated look on his face.

“I'll have you know, some of the new generation of adults frip rather decently. The older ones are... less interesting now. I wear them out.”

Vader chuckled. “You wear  _me_ out.”

Obi-Wan slid past him farther into the house. “You've been putting your scent on everything? Good.”  
Vader hadn't really thought about it, he'd just been wandering around, ghosting fingers over the walls...

Obi-Wan sighed and sank to the couch, wincing as bones far from healed protested.

“How much bacta time have you given them?”  
“An hour,” Obi-Wan dismissed. “I hate the tank.”

“I know you do,” Vader crooned, “but you're going in it anyway.”

Obi-Wan sent him a grumpy look full of hate. “Why did I let you out again?”

 

* * *

 

Kylo Ren had managed to collect  _most_ of what had once been his grandfather's.

Armor.

Cape.

His Mustafar castle.

Several of the paintings from his Coruscant palace.

Someday he would have his empire as well. He was working on that.

But there was one stark addition  _missing_ from the display proving that he was all his grandfather had been and  _more._

Vader's consort.

Lord Whore himself.

He'd disappeared several years back, finally growing tired that his utter lack of anonymity was changing the flavor of his sexual life.

Kylo had no doubt he'd gone someplace where he was unknown. Where he could frip and be fripped with no limits set on what might happen but what those directly involved determined.

Lord Whore had destroyed his grandfather. Vader hadn't known how to control him. How to lure him to his side and then  _bind_ him, make him submit.

Old fool.

Perhaps Kylo should have been more wary when he found Obi-Wan Kenobi in his private quarters on board the Finalizer...

But it felt like fate.

And besides.

The man was utterly naked and had his legs spread for Kylo, a gesture of submission if there ever was one.

Even as he slicked himself and pressed into Lord Whore, he kept a warning in the back of his mind.

His grandfather had failed because he could not control this possession. He'd refused to pay him, had betrayed the fact that he felt sentimental.

Kylo would not make the same mistakes.

He would not fall for the pretty creature that craved pain and chaos like oxygen.

Obi-Wan was pliant beneath him, moaning praises, he took Kylo's cock up his ass, down his throat; Kylo ran his hands over those glorious wings, tightened them around the spasming throat, left bite marks across neck and shoulders and face.

Somewhere, out there, his grandfather was no longer chained by the New Republic.

But instead of serving him there in obscurity, Obi-Wan was  _here._

Where he should be.

Obi-Wan had been attracted by the center of power, and Vader was no longer that.

_I am._

The truth made him feel almost drunk.

As Obi-Wan slid off the bed, Kylo felt no surprise when the angel held out his hand, stared him in the eye, and murmured, “Pay me.”

Kylo didn't skip a beat, dropping credits into his hand without losing his gaze.

Obi-Wan's eyes were the first to shift away, glancing over their number.

A smirk tugged at his lip as he recognized that Kylo had paid him the standard price not for one of the best prostitutes, but somewhere on the lower side of the middle.

Obi-Wan batted eyelashes at Kylo. “For once, someone who knows what he is doing.”

As the bare ass swaggered out the door, Kylo didn't think to try to keep the smug satisfaction from going to his head.

 

* * *

 

“You  _what?!_ ” Vader screamed, setting the windows to rattling.

Obi-Wan blithely seemed oblivious to his fury. “Arrogant little bastard. Thought he was granting me a revelation with his cock.” The angel snickered. “Thought himself  _so skilled,_ so  _in control_ of the situation, so  _large,_ so—”

“ _Stop,_ ” Vader wailed. He fled the room, desperate  _not to hear any more—_

Obi-Wan followed him into the kitchen, opening a cupboard to look for something. Vader found himself staring blankly at its contents, trying desperately to figure out  _why_ the collection of items would belong  _together_ and in a  _kitchen_ of all things—? Was that a  _toilet plunger—_

Not finding whatever he was looking for, Obi-Wan went through two more sets of shelves, several drawers— each more disorganized than those prior—

_This from the man who used to keep his quarters spotless,_ Vader mused.

“Clumsy,” Obi-Wan pronounced. “And he didn't hurt me at all. He  _thought_ he did. Idiot thought I wasn't ready for him.”

That startled Vader into spilling a comment out his mouth— “You  _prepared_ yourself?” before he  _remembered,_ thought his brain would  _melt out his ears,_ and wanted to burn his eyes out.

“He didn't even notice the insult.”

“Obi-Wan, you do realize that most people wouldn't realize that was  _supposed_ to be an insult—?”

“Do we  _ever_ use lube?” Obi-Wan demanded, turning on him with a  _don't act dumb_ expression and tone.

“Sometimes,” Vader hedged.

Obi-Wan did not have a natural predisposition to enjoy pain. This was some strange twist in his psyche he'd picked up as, at first, a desire to harm Vader, and later, Vader suspected, out of guilt. He felt himself worthless, associated the pain with purification.

Then again, Vader wasn't a natural sadist either. Obi-Wan manipulated his anger, or coaxed him, or...

_I don't take particularly good care of him._

There was a reason the best houses of bondage turned Obi-Wan away from the door on sight.

For a moment Vader felt a twinge of sorrow. What might his angel be like, if he kissed away the self-hatred? Convinced the frantic pursuit of pain and sex to calm?

_He would turn away from me in disgust,_ Vader knew.  _Boring. Run away._

Not even Satine had been able to save him.

_I certainly couldn't._

Vader wasn't sure how he felt about that. It was a strange conflict within, one part of him said he didn't want his insane angel to calm, because then he wouldn't allow Vader to abuse him so.

A larger part of him whispered back, pointing out Vader's empty soul, how  _meaningless_ it all felt. How despite desperate fripping, Vader never really felt  _happy._ Just overwhelming need, frantic thrusting as his mind blanked out, and then... very little.

Obi-Wan finally found what he was looking for. Bottom shelf of a lower cupboard, behind a couple pots and a single boot: a collar.

“Ah, yes. There you are.” Obi-Wan looked smug. “Put it on me?”

Vader moved, mechanically obeying. “I don't want you having sex with my grandson.”  
“... _why_ ? It's not your son or daughter.”

“You're still having sex with  _me_ .”

Obi-Wan looked at him like he was crazy. “I'm going to leave him weeping and sniffling on some cold planet somewhere, and you're worried about sharing diseases? Where is your sense of  _priorities_ ?”

“ _Diseases?!_ ” Vader hissed, cinching the collar then hooking his fingers through it and pulling Obi-Wan's head backwards by it. “It's  _disgusting._ It's bordering on pedophilic.”

“He's almost thirty,” Obi-Wan scoffed. “You were fripping me a few years before that.”

“That is  _exactly the point!_ ”

“ _He's_ paying me.” Obi-Wan put on an expression of patient longsuffering. “I do  _have a job,_ you know.”

“What about Snoke?” Vader asked, desperate now.

Obi-Wan looked at him with an expression that almost suggested he'd forgotten all about the First Order's Supreme Leader.

“Surely _he_ would be quite the frip. Holding most of the power in the galaxy currently. Don't you want to find out what is in _his_ pants—?”  
Obi-Wan seemed to consider it for a long time, then shook his head. “Kylo's whiny. He needs to grow up.”  
Vader's jaw dropped. “You think you're going to _help him_ by fripping him and destroying his world around him?”  
“Helped you, didn't it?” Obi-Wan patted his cheek lovingly and slipped out of his grasp.

Vader followed after him as the angel marched into the livingroom. “I don't want you  _parenting_ my  _grandson._ Dear Force, your  _helping_ style is—” Vader searched for a word, and couldn't  _find_ one vehement enough.

When Obi-Wan came to a pause before the bacta tank and sent a resigned, meek expression Vader's way, the younger Sith gave up searching and instead took advantage of Obi-Wan's willingness to cooperate.

Who knew how long it would be before another such fit of reasonableness took hold.

 

* * *

 

“ _Ren!_ ” the voice shrieked through the halls, yanking Kylo's head up.

Dear heavens,  _now_ what?

Kylo took his own time to reach the near-hysteric General, smirking behind his mask. In the days since Lord Whore had come to live aboard the Finalizer, he'd caused more amusing chaos than in the last several years.

The best part about it was Hux's utter horror.

Kylo found Hux lying prone on the floor of one of the main hallways, Obi-Wan sitting on his hips. Near naked, the Fallen one slowly ground his own groin down as he kept Hux pinned with the Force, and caressed a golden tooka tiptoeing on his shoulders and wings.

“ _Control your whore!_ ” Hux screamed as he caught sight of Kylo. “I will  _not_ have this utter lack of  _discipline_ taking place  _on my ship!_ ”

Obi-Wan craned his neck around to kiss the tooka on the nose as it reached for him.

“ _Stop kissing Millicent!_ ”

Kylo laughed outright, then remembered that wasn't  _villainly_ and tried to stifle it into a cough.

“He has a furball,” Obi-Wan explained to the feline in a confidential tone. “It happens when he eats too many of my feathers.”

Kylo scowled, and then felt annoyed that none of them could see it.

Clanking footsteps announced a new arrival, but Obi-Wan didn't seem to notice.

The new arrival paused, chrome armor glinting in the light. Kylo could almost feel Phasma trying to make sense of what she was seeing.

Obi-Wan leaned forward, leading with his tongue, Millicent slowly easing her way down his back as he went so she wouldn't fall, and the angel took possession of Hux's mouth.

Hux tried to scream around the invasion, and Phasma's blaster came up. “Sir?” she asked.

“If anything, shoot the animal.” Kylo shrugged.

Obi-Wan's hand shot out and yanked the blaster from Phasma's hand, crushing the barrel in his Force-enhanced grasp before dropping it, standing up, and standing furious while a golden-furred tooka coiled around his legs, tail caressing his calf.

And then he was slinking towards them while Hux scrambled to his feet, struggling to straighten his uniform and fix his mussed hair.

Obi-Wan slowly sank to his knees before Kylo, intentionally showing off the endurance of his legs. He caressed Kylo's hips and ass. “Master,” he whispered. “I like the tooka. Please let it live.”

“It's not  _your decision to make_ !” Hux huffed, disgusted that Millicent had followed Obi-Wan and was rubbing herself against his bare feet as he knelt there. “You don't have the authority—!”

No, he didn't...

But there was a way of getting out of it without  _admitting_ that.

“The tooka lives,” Kylo announced, taking Obi-Wan's chin in his hand, and offering his other fingers for the angel to suck. The angel set about caressing them with his tongue in the most pornographic way possible. “Because the Whore wants it.”

“Thank you, Master,” Obi-Wan purred against his fingers.

Phasma watched with growing disbelief.

“Captain,” Hux snapped. “Don't you have somewhere to  _be_ ?”  
“In bed,” Obi-Wan murmured, sending an appreciative eye up and down her armor. “I know how to make a woman feel powerful. Don't you want to make me submit?”

Hux's scandalized expression pleased Kylo.

“Well, Captain?” Kylo asked. “He's free for the time being.” He pulled his fingers from Obi-Wan's mouth, and gently pushed his head. Obi-Wan took the hint and scooted to Phasma's feet.

He bared his throat to her, breathing through his parted lips. “Don't you want to make me suffer?”  
“ _Enough!_ ” Hux roared. “Millicent! Come  _back_ ! Captain,  _go_ !”

“Certainly,” Obi-Wan murmured, standing and offering the lead attached to his collar to Phasma. “We were just going.”

For a long moment Phasma stood still...

And then she took the lead, gave it a yank, clearly liked it as Obi-Wan's head jerked painfully down—

And handed the lead back to Kylo.

“Thank you for the offer, Lord Ren, but I prefer women.”  
Obi-Wan chuckled. “That may be so, but you enjoy hurting men.”

“I think you would enjoy it too much to make it pleasant.”

Obi-Wan's head tipped to the side, his golden eyes glittering sly. “So says Vader. And he claims to prefer women too.”

 

* * *

 

Vader dragged the last of the contents of the cupboard out onto the floor, horrified by the stench that came with it.

_What did you put in there?_

He'd done what he could today for their plans, and now he just needed to keep  _busy_ or go  _mad_ wondering what Obi-Wan was  _doing._

He'd beaten him again, trying to impress upon him how _important_ it was to  _not_ have a sexual relationship with both  _grandfather_ and  _grandson,_ but Vader held little hope that it had done any  _good._ Obi-Wan had orgasmed in the midst of the bones snapping.

The front door slid open, but Vader refused to turn his gaze away from the potentially lethal mess he'd gotten himself involved in.

He was _sick_ of their base of operations smelling like... like... it might need to be _burned_ for toxic waste. And Force almighty, he couldn't find _anything_ because Obi-Wan had apparently _completely_ lost _all_ organizational skills—

“So mini-me followed me home.”

Vader looked up in annoyance. “Just because he was  _named_ for you does not mean—”

“This is where you've been running off to, Pet?”

A new voice.

The last half of Obi-Wan's sentence suddenly took on significance.

Vader lurched up, eyes  _blazing,_ and came face-to-face with a man who had  _the_ biggest nose he'd ever seen.

“Which part of the family did you get  _that_ from?” he demanded in shock.

Obi-Wan nodded sagely. “And those lips. Has to be the smuggler.”

“What was his name again?” Vader asked.

Obi-Wan shrugged.

Kylo's expression turned from shocked to thunderous. “Han Solo. And I killed him.”

“Yeah. Not that impressive, kid.” Vader shoved past him to head for the living room. “Killing people really isn't that difficult.”

“You didn't manage to kill  _your_ father!”

“Didn't have one, genius.”  
Obi-Wan chuckled, moving to lean against the door frame as Kylo pursued Vader into the other room.

“I have  _power_ and  _position._ ”

“I can vouch for that,” Obi-Wan offered up. “Plenty of positions. Some less powerful than others. Some rather nice.”

Vader's stomach turned.

“I have  _everything you used to have,_ everything you  _lost_ !”

Why, that little—

It might be true that Vader didn't have much anymore, but to think that  _meant_ what this  _child_ seemed to think it meant—

“I'm better than you!”

Vader craned his neck around in disbelief. “Obi-Wan. Tell me he's joking?”

“He is a joke,” Obi-Wan replied, as if that were a confirmation.

Vader felt a snicker well up inside him, found himself embarrassed for this member of his lineage at how Kylo's face turned bright red like he might explode his eyeballs out of his skull. “Let me get this straight. If one person—  _just one person_ in the whole damn galaxy  _doesn't_ respect you, you fall all to pieces? If your relevance is based in people  _believing_ in it, you're fripped already.” He cringed at his terrible word choice, just in time to hear Obi-Wan's purred appraisal.

“Not yet.”

“I  _deserve_ your respect, old man! I've achieved  _more_ than you  _ever did_ !”

“You didn't  _achieve_ any of it,” Vader corrected. “An ugly old man  _gave_ you everything you have, and told you that you were  _special,_ and everyone is  _laughing at you_ behind your back. The  _one thing_ you  _actually_ managed to do was kill a feeble old man who was unwilling to fight you because he loved you too much. Majorly impressed. I'm just floored by you. All hail Ben fripping Solo.”

“Ben fripping Solo,” Obi-Wan murmured, sounding cheerful and hungry.

“You're living in  _squalor,_ ” Kylo mocked. “Even your  _Whore_ is mine now!”

And then Vader was  _done._

At least this idiot's name wasn't actually Skywalker. Thank the Force for small mercies.

Vader pushed up from the couch and stalked back over to the steaming thirty-year-old who in this moment looked like an adolescent. “You're so damn entitled. Only child of heroes. Maybe the only Force sensitive in the galaxy. You  _deserve_ this, you  _deserve_ that— you've never worked a  _day in your life._ You're a pathetic  _lap dog_ to someone who actually has a couple brain cells. Obi-Wan is not yours, fool. Obi-Wan isn't something you can contain or tame or use. He uses you. And if you're lucky, you'll be able to figure out a life afterwards.”

Obi-Wan was staring at him with wide doe eyes, almost drooling in adoration.

“Oh, Vader,” he breathed, clasping his hands to his heart. “You are so beautiful, right this second.”

“Ha!” And this pathetic reject of Skywalker genes actually had  _spittle_ fly from his mouth as his face twisted into an even  _more_ ridiculous rictus of tortured fury. “ _That_ is where you're wrong. Whore is  _mine._ ”

Vader scoffed.

Kylo ignited his saber.

Vader simply  _looked_ at it. “ _Really_ ?”

“It's an ancient design! A  _powerful design_ !”

“The crystal is unstable. You didn't tune it right.”

“I  _chose_ to make a saber this shape!”

“No, you didn't. You couldn't bend its power to your will so you had to send it out the sides.”

“I'm going to  _destroy_ you with this blade.”

Vader groaned. “Just  _stop_ opening your mouth. Please. Ever again. You're going to make me die of sheer mortification that I'm connected to you. Please don't  _ever_ spawn a child. I would hate to see whatever went wrong with you passed on.”

“Now, now,” Obi-Wan interrupted, hands out in a placating gesture. “Keep in mind that I  _do_ have a job, Vader dear. I need his mouth open  _sometimes._ ”

“Letting this  _child_ rut into your ass while he makes odd whimpering noises is not your job, Obi-Wan. You have far better dicks to ride.”

Kylo swiped at the couch, carving a large tear through it.

Vader looked from it, to him, absolutely incredulous. “So... what? You destroy our couch? Do you think it's the last couch in the universe, that we can't get another one? I don't understand what you're doing.”

“Darling,” Obi-Wan interrupted, placing a hand over Kylo's mouth— Vader felt grateful because his gaze had been quite trapped by the man's humongous lips— “He  _pays_ me, and you never did.”

Kylo bit Obi-Wan's fingers, eliciting a surprised hum from the angel as he drew back his hand to inspect the dents.

_Force. Didn't even break skin._

Kylo reached out in the force to try to corral Vader's movements in the Force. For the first time, Vader saw perhaps a hint of his own lineage.

_At least he has power._

He slipped out of it with ease, found the small comfort he'd taken fade as he saw Kylo's baffled expression.

“And  _this_ is why a child with the Force raised by non-Force-sensitive parents is  _ridiculous._ Used to getting your way when you scream at your babysitter,  _Bennie_ ?  _I won't be put to bed!_ ”

Kylo shrieked and lunged for him.

Vader stepped out of the way and the other stumbled over a lamp, crashing to the floor in a heap. “You're not worth the time it would take to teach you better.”

“If you're done wrecking your grandson's self esteem, I am going to return to what I was  _planning_ to do before the two of you started this delightful dick-measuring contest. I will ride you both, and pronounce the winner.”

Obi-Wan's shirt fluttered to the floor, and the auburn-haired creature was undoing Kylo's belt with the Force.

Panicked, because he did  _not_ want to see  _anything_ under his grandson's pants, and frustrated because Obi-Wan was doing that  _thing_ in the Force that might drag Vader into forgetting an audience and  _take him_ against the remains of the couch—

He needed to regain some semblance of steering. “I know where Snoke is!”

He'd meant to withhold that information until their uninvited guest had  _left,_ but he wasn't sure it mattered.

Kylo swiped his saber at Vader's ankle.

Vader stepped out of its way, then kicked him in the jaw.

“Snoke?” Obi-Wan echoed.

Vader sent him a look that probably announced he was  _this close_ to going mad entirely, and replied, “Yes,  _Snoke._ The one who has the only castle big enough to be worth knocking over, remember? Or knocking up? Either one? Don't you want to play with him? I found his location today. Was waiting for you to get home to—”

Were those  _teeth_ in his ankle?!

“Are you for real?” Vader wailed. “Is this my curse for turning? You do realize I  _can't feel that through my boot?_ ”

“Please,” Obi-Wan scoffed. “I knew where Snoke was before I busted you out of Leia's prison.”

The front door hurtled inwards, smashing against the far wall.

A presence beautiful in its light stepped into the room, making Vader almost forget the fact that for  _thirty years_ Vader had just wanted his daughter to look at him and  _see him_ , and that Obi-Wan had been withholding the intel that would allow him to throw her most hated enemy's head at her feet and earn some measure of  _relationship_ , however meager—

“Kylo Ren!”

Vader squinted down at the man latched on to his boot. At least it was with hands instead of teeth now.

Dear  _Force._

“Face me!”

Vader looked back, felt nearly blinded by power and  _dignity_ in the Force.

“Why couldn't  _she_ have been my grandchild?” he wailed under his breath.

Obi-Wan inspected his fingernails. “About that...”

Kylo scrambled up, igniting his saber again and lunging for her.

“How could you not tell me about Snoke when you know how badly I want Leia?” Vader demanded, only half-watching the battle in their livingroom.

Obi-Wan shrugged. “Details of his armament, skills, anything we need to take him out is written on the milk jug in the back of the refrigerator.”

“The one that's turned  _black_ it's so out of date?”

“The  _sky_ looks black too, when it's really just a darker version of blue...”

“Why did you  _buy_ it in the  _first_ place?”

“I  _didn't._ It was there when I killed the guy who lived here!”

“What did you do with the  _body_ ?”

“It's in the attic!”

Vader's jaw dropped open. “ _That's the smell?_ ”

“ _A_ smell...”

“I don't even want to know about the others.”

The front wall fell out as the supports gave way beneath deflected sabers.

“Maybe they'll break the bacta tank,” Obi-Wan offered, sounding optimistic.

Vader turned to look as he heard Kylo yelp in pain. Saw him running, clutching at his face.

The girl stood with her lightsaber still ignited, gaze darting between the fleeing foe and the two potential others still within reach. “What are you?”

Both Vader and Obi-Wan looked at her, puzzled.

“He's a prostitute and I'm late for everything, including my own destiny.” His mom used to predict that very thing.  _Ani, you'll be late for your own destiny._ He hadn't thought of it in years.

Hadn't thought of  _her_ in years.

Must have been seeing how clearly  _awful_ the bloodline had become.

“ _You are him._ The one who did the terrible things with this lightsaber! I heard the screams, I  _felt them_ !”

_What now?_

“So now might be a good time to mention that I gave your old blue lightsaber to Maz,” Obi-Wan threw out, tone casual.

“ _Kanata_ ? It's not like I  _care_ what you did with it, but  _why Kanata_ ?”

“So she could get it into the right hands when the time came.”

“ _Your voice_ !” the girl cried, saber still ignited and pointed toward them, Kylo apparently not as important at the moment. “I  _heard your voice!_ ”

“Ah.” Obi-Wan stooped, picked up his shirt, and wiggled his way into it again. “I am terribly sorry about that. I hope it wasn't anything too indecent?”

“Something about my first steps?”

Obi-Wan thought about it, then looked relieved. “Oh. That's alright, then.”

Vader stared at him in bafflement. “What is going on?”

“Maz is an excellent person and her teachings are worth listening to,” Obi-Wan went on, looking grave.

Rey looked unconvinced. “I've been told I need to seek out someone else.”

“ _Luke_ ?” Obi-Wan asked, looking worried now. “No, no, no. Much better to back to Maz.”

Vader blinked once, twice, looked at his lover  _again—_

“Now, miss, do you know your way back? The Nar Shaddaa underlevels can be a bit of a maze.”

“I know how to navigate with few landmarks.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “Best of regards.”

As the girl moved to the door, Vader heard a near-silent whisper from the man beside him:

“May the Force be with you.”

Vader waited until the bright Force signature faded away, then turned to look at Obi-Wan. “You didn't try to frip her.”  
“Psh. I do have  _some_ standards.”

A thought dawned in Vader's mind, spilling out in a bewildered, “Is that...  _your daughter?_ ”

“No.” Obi-Wan looked infinitely sad as he whispered, “but she should have been.” And then he walked into the kitchen, and shoved all of the things Vader had pulled onto the floor  _back_ into their cupboard.

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

Vader wasn't expecting to come face-to-face with an eighty-six-year-old woman.

_That's right. Humans age._

Obi-Wan, fully clothed for once, stood behind Vader with his chin dropped and gaze fixed on the floor. His wings slouched, his breathing a  _forced_ calm.

“I thought I told you where you could stuff it,” Satine Kryze growled, voice as cold as ever.

Vader tried to pull himself together. “You were very clear about it, Duchess. But Obi-Wan knows where to find Snoke, and if he would just grant me that information, I would take him out and attempt to make amends with Leia.”

Satine's eyes narrowed as if she could see straight through the Sith.

Vader stood firm under the gaze, but felt by  _no_ means comfortable.

Satine looked to the figure behind Vader.

“Why do you hide behind him?”

Obi-Wan didn't budge.

“Why would you hide such information  _from_ him? You seem eager to share everything else with him.”

Obi-Wan wilted still further. “I want to go home,” he quavered.

The tone startled Vader, and even Satine's eyes widened.

She stalked forward, past Vader, and seized Obi-Wan's jaw with her fingers, tilting his face up. “What game are you playing at?”

“I'm not done with Kylo yet.”  
“What more is there to do to him? Even out here we've heard about the mockery you've made of him.”

Obi-Wan couldn't look her in the eye. Instead, his gaze slid to the side.

“Once Vader knows where Snoke is, he will kill him.”

“ _And_ ?”

“It won't win him Leia.”

Vader scowled. “You don't  _know_ that. It's what she  _wants—_ ”

“I saw our daughter,” Obi-Wan whispered.

Satine's lined face went still, she drew her fingers away from his face, and she turned back to her throne again. “She is not our daughter.”

Obi-Wan sank to his knees, as if his legs simply wouldn't hold him anymore. He bowed his head, wings sprawled listlessly against the floor.

“What is it you want, Lord Whore?” Satine asked, taking the steps up the dais in measured, careful movements. She turned and sat, as regal as she'd ever been.

“Anything,” Obi-Wan choked. “ _Everything._ The emptiness inside is never filled.  _Always hunger._ ”

“That is the way of the Sith. You sacrifice everyone who loves you to get something, then you no longer want it because it is no longer enough and you want something  _more._ Happiness is not a goal of the Sith.  _Hunger_ is the entire point. If you are satisfied, you fail at being Sith. Is it not so, Lord Vader?”

Vader couldn't meet her piercing gaze. He looked away and gave a short nod before sliding his gaze back to Obi-Wan.

“So what do you want, Lord Whore?” Satine asked again, her voice a low hiss.

His finger came up, tapped his temple. “For this to stop. For the pain to silence.”  
“You've tried all sorts of things to grant that. Physical pain. Pleasure. Scheming. Mayhem. Drugs. The reports coming in show someone growing ever more desperate, Man Who Used to be Obi-Wan Kenobi.” She turned her attention to Vader. “And  _you._ Have you  _ceased_ craving everything and focused in instead on just one daughter's affection? Or is this simply a passing fancy that once attained, you would fling aside for something new? If you think General Organa will simply embrace you while you continue to tear apart everything she holds dearest in the world, you remain a fool. And if you think the death of her enemy is what she wants most, you haven't been paying much attention.”

“What?” Vader asked, oblivious now to Obi-Wan beginning to rock and shiver. “What is it she wants?”

Satine leaned back against her throne, watching the Sith still on his feet with a predatory gleam.

Silence fell over the glass hall.

“I came to you to ask for  _help_ convincing Obi-Wan to  _talk._ ”

“And  _I_ told you,  _long_ ago, to not turn to me for help in taming  _my love,_ ” Satine hissed, leaning forward, eyes blazing.

The force of her fury and hate impressed Vader, it was worthy of a Sith. He felt torn between wanting to regret the fact she refused to turn it into violence— he could  _really use_ a Mando right about now— and gratitude because his head would be the first on the chopping block.

A quiet voice wavered up from the floor. “I haven't told him where to find Snoke, because that starts the path that leads to Snoke killing me.”

Startled, Vader allowed Satine to win the stare-war to send Obi-Wan a shocked look. “ _What_ ?”

“I have seen it. And I am not  _ready_ .”

“Then  _why_ did you break me  _out_ ?” Vader demanded, baffled.

Obi-Wan fell silent.

“Tell him,” Satine commanded, voice quiet.

“I couldn't bear to be alone.” Obi-Wan drove his finger again into his temple. “The _silence_ forces me to see _what_ _goes on in here_.”

“Did you tell him who Rey is?” Satine asked.

Obi-Wan shook his head with a low moan.

Vader looked from one to the other, feeling as if a trap might be closing. “I'm going to go now. I will find Snoke on my own, and you, Obi-Wan, will stay away from him. I'll take him out, he can't kill you, I'll give his head to Leia and she'll tell me whatever else it is she wants, and I'll do it. Turn the music on loud, Obi-Wan, and find someone to beat you while I'm gone, and you'll be fine.” He backed towards the door.

“ _K'pare_!” Satine snapped, and then her voice lowered to a growl. “I did not give you permission to leave.”

A chill ran down his back.  _No, unreasonable. She won't allow herself to harm anything anymore. The fear response is unnecessary anymore._

His body apparently didn't know that, though.

Obi-Wan cowered against the floor.

“What is it you want, Lord Whore?” she asked for the third time.

Obi-Wan's head snapped up. “For an  _end._ ”

“And yet you fear death.”

“An end to the  _pain,_ not an end to  _me._ ”

“But you  _are_ pain. You have become hunger. You hold on so tight that you cannot enjoy what you have, and the only remedy is to open your clenched fingers.”

Vader frowned. “He cannot go back to the Light. He's too far gone.”

_Hatred_ peered at him over Obi-Wan's shoulder as the former Jedi turned his head just a bit to look back with golden eyes at the man who had wrecked him.

Obi-Wan leaped up, stormed over, wrapped thin fingers around Vader's throat. “ _You_ ! You took  _everything_ from  _past and future_ ! I have  _nothing,_ and then I  _die_ !”

His face twisted into an ugly despair, but his fingers did not squeeze.

“You're all I have left,” he hissed. He spun back around to look at Satine, hands spread wide in a parody of innocence. “Rey is not ready. I cannot die yet. I will  _not_ tell Vader where to find Snoke. I  _will find something_ to again ease the void. I've done it for four decades. I can for a while longer.”

“And then the death that terrifies you?” she asked.

Obi-Wan made fists and then exploded his fingers out. “Blaze of  _fripping_ glory.”

But he was shaking, and the utter _misery_ and claustrophobia of _life_ spilling off him made it difficult for Vader to breathe. He had a sudden urge to claw his way out of his own skin.

_Start shielding again, Obi-Wan, for Force's sake!_

“Why would you settle for something you hate so much?” Satine asked.

“Because I  _cannot have what I want!_ ”

“And this elusive thing you crave, that you refuse to speak aloud?”

Obi-Wan froze. His face twisted again.

“You want what the Force offered you so long ago, don't you.”

All life drained from Obi-Wan's face and body, leaving him staring at Satine's feet, the posture empty and silent, reminding Vader of the time before Obi-Wan had Turned.

The horrible time in the dungeon as the whispers of Sith magic had shrieked in his soul for years after endless years.

_And with that, we get nothing more out of him._

“What was he offered?” Vader demanded.

Satine tore her gaze away from the shut-down Obi-Wan. “A simple future. A quiet one. One of obscurity. It offered to give him a child by me. Rey.”

“But Rey is far too young— no offense, but  _Duchess._ ”

“The Force wanted Rey to exist. It offered to allow him to be her father. When he refused, it chose to form her anyway. It would not be thwarted by his refusal.”

“So Rey is  _not_ your child.”

“She is not.”

“I suppose it was a terrible shock when he first saw her and realized what had happened.”

“It was. It culminated in desperately trying to silence his mind again, because it was harder to silence now.”

_Why he needed me again. Why he's acting... so much not like himself._

_He cares too much. He's unable to decide which direction to go._

_He's imploding._

The unstable singularity of Obi-Wan's soul had found its disaster point.

“So what he wants is a family? You, and Rey, and a quiet little cottage somewhere?” Vader asked, not quite believing his ears. “He wants to feel  _content_ and  _satisfied_ ?”

“Hm.” Satine chuckled, but it wasn't a friendly sound. “And  _you,_ who races after Leia's approval, do you not wish for her to actually  _grant_ it, at some point? Or do you just want the hunger and no satisfaction? And would you prefer to get it and then discover it doesn't really matter anymore, or would you like to feel content in it? Mock him all you like, Vader, but you look suspiciously alike. He's just a little more honest in his misery.”

Vader shrugged. “You're alive. Rey's out there. Obi-Wan hasn't wrecked an opportunity to reach out to her. He could still have  _something._ Maybe not  _the thing,_ but something fairly close. So why is he acting like all is lost? He could still fight for it.”

“Because he has lost his capacity for contentment and satisfaction. Even if we retired to a little cottage, he would find himself restless within days and running away again. Do you believe in hell, Anakin Skywalker? Because survive long enough as a Sith, and you begin to realize that the hunt to break your chains has only made them sink into your mind, until you  _become_ hell. And when you are your own chain,  _who will free you then_ ?”

“The Force will free me,” Vader shot back. “My discontent fuels  _everything,_ and once I  _win enough,_ I  _will be free._ And so will he, if he just keeps fighting.”

Obi-Wan giggled. “Attained freedom and peace go hand in hand. But peace is a lie.  _Freedom is a lie too,_ a pretty picture waved in the sky to make you  _chase after it forever._ Churning out pain and despair and rage, feeding the Dark Side, but it gives almost nothing back. Only enough to leave you addicted, so you cannot leave, and give it everything it wants. The Jedi who  _died_ are happier than the Sith who  _lived._ There's something wrong with that, Vader.” Obi-Wan snickered again, a tear slipping down his cheek. “How  _fripping wrong is that._ ”

“You'll feel better tomorrow,” Vader murmured, taking his arm to lead him out. “I'll frip you into the bed until you can't breathe and break your wings. You'll forget everything for a time.”

Obi-Wan yielded to his grasp, but threw a last, anguished look to the Duchess.

“Give me the word,” she rasped. “You know what I offered you when you were last here.”

_Now what?_

And then the fragile hope in her voice smacked Vader in the face.

_Oh. She tried to help him get clean, and he gave up. How many times did they try before he returned to me? There's thirty years where I don't know what he was doing. Thirty years after the goal of his life was achieved._

He stared down at his former master in pity.

Obi-Wan bowed his head, turned to the door, and started walking again.

“Are you sure, Obi-Wan?” Vader heard himself asking. “Kark, if Padmé were still alive, and she gave me that out again, knowing what I know now...”

Obi-Wan didn't stop.

A strangled gasp came from the throne, whirling both Sith around.

Obi-Wan realized what was happening before Vader did, launching past him with a broken, “ _No_ !”

Vader sped after him, crouched beside Obi-Wan, who had the Duchess in his arms, horror in his face, and was trying to summon enough Light for healing.

It wasn't working.

“She can't breathe,” Obi-Wan choked, “why can't she breathe?”

Vader darted to the door, called for assistance.

But even as he returned to his lover, he knew there was little point.

_She's too old for this kark, Obi-Wan._

“Please,” Obi-Wan whispered, tears streaking down his cheeks.

For a moment recognition lit the tired eyes, and a smile touched the aged face. Gnarled fingers came up to touch his cheek.

Then she closed her eyes and breath escaped her in a sigh, as if she'd fallen asleep.

Obi-Wan sobbed, clutching her close and rocking. He raised torn eyes to Vader's before stifling a mournful wail.

Vader's throat constricted, but it wasn't Obi-Wan's doing.

When the paramedics rushed in, Obi-Wan released the body to them without a fight.

He stood, staring at their quick appraisals, then at the sheet they drew over Satine's face.

He swiped the back of his hand across his nose, then turned to look at Vader.

“She was the last good thing in my life.” Obi-Wan gave a nod, blinking away his tears. He reached out, clasped hands with Vader. “Let's go home.”

Vader searched his gaze, realized he meant it, nodded, and walked out the door, hand-in-hand with a silent Obi-Wan Kenobi.

The Dark's servant had begun to stray.

Vader wished the dragging him back into alignment wouldn't have been quite so cruel, but the Dark was always cruel.

Kylo currently thought he was its master.

_Just you wait. It will take everything from you, in the end._

_But you will never, ever leave._

 

* * *

 

Vader wasn't expecting Obi-Wan's introspection to completely vanish.

But it seemed as if the last of his sanity died with Satine.

He smiled, laughed, fripped and was fripped, and even agreed to help Vader with his Snoke plans. The sneaky bastard had codes, maps, files, and the exact specifics for three  _different_ ways of taking him down, complete to the point of shopping lists.

While Vader felt the thrill of war whisper through his veins, intoxicating, seeing the inside of Obi-Wan's vicious destructive tendencies chilled him too.

_I never stood a chance._

He thought he and Obi-Wan were on the same side. At least for now. Maybe.

_He_ is  _done with his revenge, isn't he?_

Vader supposed it wasn't particularly safe to assume that.

There had certainly been hatred in his eyes not that long ago.

Vader knew he wouldn't be able to get the answer to  _that_ question out of his former master, but there was one he  _needed addressed._ He cornered the angel in the back alley behind their new dingy hovel, shoving him into the wall and dragging his head back by his hair.

Obi-Wan made a lewd smile, gaze caressing Vader's lips.

“Are you trying to die?” Vader asked.

A furrow of confusion crossed Obi-Wan's face. “Why would I do that?” he asked, apparently baffled. “Life's no fun when you're dead.”

“Do you know what Leia wants more than Snoke's overthrow?” Vader asked.

Obi-Wan looked thoughtful, then nodded.

Vader tightened his grip in Obi-Wan's hair, hating the fact that the wince in Obi-Wan's eyes from pain was accompanied by a shudder and loopy grin of anticipation. “Are you going to tell me what it is?”

“It's not something you can give her.”

“Why?”  
“ _Ben_ will never listen if you tell him to return to the Light and go home.”

“The  _twerp_ ?” Vader asked, incredulous.

Obi-Wan chuckled. “You want  _desperately_ to make things right with  _your_ child. She's a Skywalker too.”  
Vader let go of Obi-Wan's hair and stared at him in bewilderment. “Why isn't she  _glad_ to be rid of him?”

Obi-Wan sank to his knees and fawned at Vader's hips.

“No! I'm  _thinking_ !”

“Can't you do both?” Obi-Wan licked at his clothing-covered crotch.

Vader kicked him away, rolling his eyes at the canine-like yelp that escaped Obi-Wan, followed by quiet, giddy laughter. “Leia wants Ben returned to the Light and reconciled with her? Even  _after_ he killed what's-his-face?”

“Even then.” Obi-Wan was licking his boot now.

“ _Force,_ Whore! That's  _dirty!_ You want to catch some horrifying disease?”

“For you?” Obi-Wan purred, rolling to lie on his back on the alley floor.

Vader felt tempted to walk away, then realized he couldn't leave him there.

_And this is my punishment for all the crimes I have committed. To be inescapably shackled to_ him.

He dragged Obi-Wan up,  _knew better_ than to put him over his shoulder, and instead settled on a bridal carry. Their home was just around the corner, so it's not like he would be walking far.

Obi-Wan melted against him with a sigh, tucking his head onto Vader's shoulder.

“You're sure Leia would prefer Ben back to Snoke's head?” Vader asked.

A humorless chuckle escaped Obi-Wan. “Have you given up entirely on winning Luke?”

“Luke loves me no matter what I am,” Vader dismissed.

Obi-Wan was silent for a long time.

He only spoke as Vader reached to open their door: “Something you don't realize you need until it's gone.”

Vader didn't insult his intelligence by saying  _I love you._

He wasn't sure if he felt better or worse for the moment of grief that slipped through Obi-Wan's frantic pursuits.

He assumed he was a bit safer for it.

He'd seen  _none_ of this through the years of ruling with Whore by his side, and  _that_ had ended in...

Yes.

If Whore seemed fine, all was about ready to go to kark.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oops.

 

“Obi-Wan.”

The angel blinked up at him from where he lay on his back on the livingroom rug in the sun.

“Why does the paternity test I ran on Rey match your DNA and  _mine_ ?”

Obi-Wan shrugged. “The Force got the pattern from somewhere.”

“You're sure you didn't steal my—”

“Why did I never think of that?” Obi-Wan mused. “I could keep it in the refrigerator for those times you're too worn out—”

Vader pinched the bridge of his nose. “Nothing goes in the refrigerator unless I okay it first. I'm tired of finding  _non-food-items_ in there.”

“It  _is_ a food item—”

“I said  _no,_ Obi-Wan. I cleaned the fridge  _out,_ and I don't want to have to do it again. Besides. It's mortal terror whenever I open it up to try to scrounge a meal. I'm never quite sure you haven't  _done something_ to what's in there.”

Obi-Wan looked thoughtful. “You might want to avoid the leftover pasta.”

Vader's stomach lurched in alarm. “What did you do the pasta?”

“I don't remember.”

And the Force confirmed Obi-Wan's honesty.  _I am going to die._ That being the case, there was something he  _wanted to know._ “Rey is our daughter, Obi-Wan. Just you, just me. Even for  _me,_ that is bizarre. Where did she  _gestate?_ ”

Obi-Wan gave him a look that said he thought _Vader_ crazy. “You don't think the Force couldn't make another pocket dimension like Mortis for the sheer purpose of growing a baby? _Really_?”  
“And just dumped her on Jakku later? When did you find out about her, anyway?”  
“Not soon enough to intervene,” Obi-Wan mumbled. “Within the last couple of years.”

“But you didn't take her off Jakku?”  
“Why do you think I sent the tiny-map to Lor San Tekka? Something would happen. Something was bound to happen. It worked. She's out.”

Vader moved to sit on the carpet beside the other man. “Why didn't you tell her who you were? It's no secret she's looking for her family. She asks  _everyone._ ”

“She doesn't need to be near me.” Obi-Wan grimaced, sent Vader a surprisingly sane glance. “I'm filthy. Just proximity would... hurt her.”

“She seems resilient to me,” Vader murmured.

“You're just thinking about giving up the impossible Leia mission to fixate on a new, easier to win over daughter instead.”

“Not true,” Vader shot back.

Obi-Wan grunted. “I haven't seen you inventing plans to win Ben back to the Light, and you've stalled on pursuing Snoke. And now you're wanting to focus on Rey.”

“I don't want you to die.” The admission hurt, just a little.

Obi-Wan made a tiny shrug and let his eyes drift closed again.

“I just...  _keep thinking_ about that evening you drugged me without my knowledge, and we saw  _another_ version of us. How that Obi-Wan could have been happy, but was headed in our direction.”

“Drugs?” Obi-Wan chuckled enigmatically.

“You still haven't told me how you slipped it to me or  _what_ that stuff was. It was crazy. But that other you let me...  _love_ him...”

“That me was unmemorable.”

“I had a galaxy and I wasn't happy. And you aren't happy in toppling castles either, so why  _bother_ running to the inevitable end? If pursuing Snoke is what ends in your death, and killing Snoke won't make Leia forgive me and it won't make  _you_ happy and I don't actually give a kark, why bother?”

Obi-Wan sighed with a shrug. “Why bother with  _anything_ ?”

“That's the sunshine talking.” Vader tapped Obi-Wan's nose with his forefinger, smiling when the winged Sith's face scrunched into a closed-eyed glower. “You can nap in a minute. It's just a lot of pointless effort to be expended for something that won't make us happy.”

Lord Whore made an agreeing whuff-like noise.

“I can't help but realize that we've tried a lot of things, but there's only one thing we  _haven't_ tried. Just disconnecting from it all, finding a small home of our own out of reach of all of this kark, and just... being. Rey wants a family. Maybe we should try a family.”

Obi-Wan grumbled and rolled over to drape his wings out to pick up the sun, one wing settling over Vader's lap in a shower of warm feathers.

Vader stroked the damaged bones, noting how uneven they felt.

Obi-Wan was careless in how he set broken limbs. He just didn't care.

“I know you don't like it when I talk about Satine,” Vader murmured, and refused to stop when the wing in his hands tensed, “but she made me think. Maybe power without happiness  _is_ kind of stupid. I mean, what do we  _really_ owe the line of Bane to continue it? And being Emperor of the galaxy wasn't so much fun. You were happiest when you were anonymous down in the brothels, not when you were out snapping necks and commanding armies.”

The feathers flared, just a bit.

_He's feeling intrigued, just a little._

That was more than he'd gotten out of him in a good long while, so  _progress._

“I felt almost content in that other place, holding the other you.”

“Go back then,” Obi-Wan grumbled.

Vader shook his head, stroking the feathers. “I can't leave Leia, or Rey, or Luke. I want to have relationships with them.”

“You'd have to stop obsessing about Leia to do that,” Obi-Wan shot back.

“Well, now I know what she wants. And it seems pretty impossible.”

A single eye peeped up at him over a shoulder. “You giving up?”  
“Ben's a pretty impossible castle to topple. Take his dignity and any respect anyone would give him and the planets he controls? We could do that without a whole lot of effort. You've already done quite a bit of that. But change his  _mind_ ? That's one giant-ass fortress to turn around.”

The eye narrowed into a glare. “What. You couldn't come up with a strategy, so now you're trying to lure  _me_ into it?”

“You're bored. You're unhappy. Sith don't try to get happy, and maybe that's absolute banthakark. They're all dead anyway, so why listen to them?”  
Obi-Wan's eye disappeared again. “You like being famous and bossing people around.”

“I wouldn't mind starting over. Anonymous on a racing track, earn my fame again, under a different name. We'd live in a place where you could have an intense job at the dungeon of your choice, and we'd have a home  _I_ kept clean so Rey could come and stay with us for a few months at a time.”

Obi-Wan rolled over and sat up, an explosive movement, wings splaying out and nearly sweeping Vader flat. “What are you doing.”

“I'm reinventing us, because there's no one left to tell us what to do, but we're acting like Sidious is hanging over our shoulders.”

“He had a nice—”

“Please,  _don't_ finish that thought,” Vader pleaded, on the edge of sick. “ _Whatever_ the end point might have been!”  


* * *

 

“Do you still hate me?” Vader asked as they explored one of the massive cities on Malastare.

Obi-Wan sent him a languid  _look._ “Forever and always.”

“Yes... but do you hate me as much as you did before?”

Artificially-colored lips pursed. “Takes a lot of effort to keep up that kind of fire.” He patted his groin. “I have far better uses for that kind of energy. I've already had my revenge on you.”  
“So you _might_ be willing to let me stop hurting you  _all_ the time?”  
Obi-Wan sent him a suspicious look. “You want me to turn into that  _other me_ you met through the mirror.”

“No. He was...” Vader shivered. That Obi-Wan's mind had been almost as damaged as his soul. His own Obi-Wan was still capable of terrifying brilliance, hidden by the insanity. His Obi-Wan might be unhinged, but he wasn't... cowering. Hiding in the dark and hoping to die. “I'm just thinking that once Rey is with us, it won't be healthy for me to damage you as much anymore.”

Obi-Wan paused, forehead furrowed in a frown.

“That  _is_ why you always insisted on me hurting you,” Vader asserted, finally voicing the theory he'd long held in silence, “because of your hatred for me, and because you knew it messed with me.”

Obi-Wan glanced at him out of the corners of his outlined eyes, a silent confirmation.

“And if you're getting your bizarre sex in your dungeon, and your abusive sex wherever you want to find it, then you don't need  _me_ for it anymore.”

For a long moment Obi-Wan considered, then he asked, “And you  _wouldn't_ miss it?” sounding skeptical. 

Vader thought back to the illusion Obi-Wan, and how taking care of him had warmed something he'd thought dead inside himself. “I've never actually been much for experimental sex, and I don't have any real desire to hurt you. There've been a lot of years of that, and it's not really amounted to anything but one giant fripping headache.”

The headache part Obi-Wan seemed to agree with.

They continued scouting out the murky areas, took out a couple of gangs who thought they might harass the strangers strolling through their territory, and were back at the hotel in time for a very late dinner.

 

* * *

 

It was time.

Obi-Wan rolled the hereditary print-out as if it were a scroll, and stuck a very large bow on top. Vader added some sparkles, just to see Obi-Wan's chagrin over them, and then they left it where Rey would find it.

Obi-Wan sat stiff-backed in a chair and chewed on his fingernails for two hours straight, refusing to budge. Vader paced, hating the wait as much as he ever had.

“It's not going to work,” Obi-Wan announced out of the blue.

Vader eyed him. “ _What_ won't?”

“Any of it. Being happy.”

“... _Why_ ?”

“Neither of us know how to be content anymore. Contentment is a selfless glorying in a moment's wholesome presence of being exactly what it is. Living each second to the fullest. Not judging a good thing for not being good enough, but delighting in each pretty thing for however long or short it exists.”

Vader frowned. “Enjoying the mayfly in the hours it has before death, without letting the upcoming disaster rob it of its soul warmth.”

“You've  _never,_ even before you turned Sith. Ever. Been content.”

“True. Every good thing I ever experienced was overshadowed with frustration over knowing it wouldn't last forever, or that it wasn't good enough, or that it wasn't the right time, or... whatever. But  _you_ knew how to live with an open hand.”

“That me is... very far gone.” Obi-Wan stared down at the floor. “The Force gave me a chance to get out, with Satine. I refused. It won't offer the same chance twice. Maybe Rey  _will_ reach out to us. Even if she does, and things look good for a time... it will fall apart.”

“Why? Because the Force hates you because you rejected that offered mercy once?” Vader challenged.

Obi-Wan sighed. “Because the Dark never lets go.”

“Leaving the Dark is as simple as a tiny choice to put someone else's well-being as just as important as your own. That moment, that one choice, is pure Light. The path out might be long, but it's  _simple._ You just have to string together those moments into a continuous rope until it leads you out of the pit. Until kindness is your reflex instead of cruelty. That's what you taught me, all those years ago. Even Sith believe it, it's why we drive away things we love, and why we refuse to grant mercy to any. Too many moments of kindness could change your trajectory.”

The former Jedi Master raised exhausted, sorrowful eyes to meet Vader's. “The silence in contentment leads to... seeing self. And I do not like what I see.”

“Who does? My kids hate me.”  
“ _One_ of them. One does.”

Vader arched an eyebrow. “Are you trying to console me?”

“Practicing,” Obi-Wan muttered. “This is a bad idea. We should leave before she gets here.” He sprang up and lunged for the door.

Vader tackled him and refused to let go of his legs. “No. You. Don't.”

A whine escaped Obi-Wan's throat. “She won't want the real us. And if she  _accepts_ the real us, it will  _dim_ her. And I can't pretend.”

“No,” Vader murmured, resting his cheek against Obi-Wan's thigh. “You've never been able to live incongruently. Even when you were preparing to take me out, you were being honest in your own way. You said you hated me. I just wasn't listening.”

Obi-Wan  _pfffed_ at him, but lay still.

“Hello?” a young voice with Obi-Wan's accent asked. “Is anyone here?”

Obi-Wan stiffened like a board, eyes wide, skin going deathly pale.

Vader picked himself up off the floor and tipped Obi-Wan upright, keeping careful hold of him in case he decided to try to bolt again. “In here,” he called.

A  _real_ Malastare house, one where  _Vader,_ not Obi-Wan, had done the arranging and furniture choosing and—

Obi-Wan was so terrified he wasn't even shaking.

“I saw the test results.” Rey stepped into the living room, staff in her hands, eyes wary but hopeful. “I don't quite understand. Which one of you carried me?”

“A... pocket... dimension?” Obi-Wan squeaked.

Rey frowned. “A what?”

“Would you like to sit down?” Vader asked.

“I know you. When I was chasing Kylo, I found him with you. And from what I've learned in the Resistance,  _you_ are Anakin Skywalker, the man who became Darth Vader.”

Maybe Obi-Wan was right and they should just bail now.

“Luke says there is hope for you.”

Vader blinked, then tightened his grip on Obi-Wan's arm as the other man started tipping away from him, still stiff like a statue. “Luke is unfailingly optimistic.”  
“But if you're my parents, that means I'm Luke's sister. And General Organa's. And it would make me—”

_Here we go._

“—Kylo's aunt.”

_Why did I ever think having a family was a good idea?_

“Yes,” Vader admitted, just a bit weakly.

“Why did you reach out to me, after all these years?” Rey asked, grip tightening on the staff.

“We didn't actually know you existed. The Force didn't tell us it was definitely going to do this, and once we  _did_ figure it out, you were already with the Resistance, and we wondered if you would want to hear from us. We're not... exactly parents to be proud of.”

“Why not?”

Obi-Wan's head cocked to the side at almost the exact time Vader's did as well.

“I'm sorry...?” Obi-Wan blurted.

Rey watched them with quick, dark eyes. “I've learned that people can come from an evil place and still become  _good people._ I have a friend. Finn. He's the best man I know, but he used to be a stormtrooper.”

“We're... a bit... worse,” Vader cautioned.

“An Emperor who tore apart a galaxy, and the man who tore apart it and him. Lord Whore is a hero of the Rebellion.”

Vader turned his head to look at Obi-Wan, saw a mortified blush spill across cheeks Vader hadn't realized still  _could_ blush.

“Look, I don't really care where you came from. I just want to know where you're going. Are you for the First Order?”

“No,” came back the ready reply from two throats.

“Do you intend to hurt my friends in the Resistance?”

Again, “No.”

“Then I don't see a problem. Tell me more about this pocket dimension you spoke of.”

Tears, one after another, slipped down Obi-Wan's cheeks, though Vader wasn't certain the other man had realized it just yet. Vader himself stood staring at his daughter, amazed at the light inside her.

So like Luke's. Precious and hope filled and forgiving and ready to reach out, whether the person seemed deserving of help or not.

“That's... that's Obi-Wan's hypothesis,” Vader cautioned. “We don't actually know for sure what happened. The Force offered Obi-Wan a chance for happiness—”

“I take it,” Obi-Wan whispered, slipping from Vader's grip and walking towards Rey.

His fingers came up to touch her cheek, as the tears continued to fall unhindered.

Rey stared back, longing just as much as either of them to belong again.

Obi-Wan looked back at Vader with eyes almost clear of the haze that had been over them for decades. “I take it.”

 

 

**The End**

 

Epilogue:

 

Obi-Wan fell in the front door, leaving a smear of blood across the tiles.

“Father!” Rey called from the kitchen, hearing the door close, “Dad's home!”  
Vader swept in, gathering his injured angel in his arms and carrying him to the bathroom— which had a medic's table in the center of the open floor space.

Obi-Wan lay still on its cold metal surface and allowed Vader to tend to the injuries he'd collected, the vampire Sith still dressed in his racing attire.

Once bandaged, Obi-Wan limped back to the dining room with Vader's watchful assistance, and settled into the chair waiting for him.

Rey walked in, pressed a kiss to Obi-Wan's shimmer-coated forehead, and hugged Vader before she slid into a chair.

“You're back a'ready,” Obi-Wan offered, voice just a bit slurred. He wasn't quite ready to come back down from his pain and drug high.

Rey smiled and shoved a plate of snacks his direction. Obi-Wan distantly noted they were toxin-binding agents, things to help him recover from his night of debauchery, should he care for the assistance.

Obi-Wan decided to munch on one or two of the tiny biscuits, because Vader would make odd clucking noises if he didn't eat  _something._

“I came back to consult with Father about ideas for how to convince Ben to leave Snoke.”

Obi-Wan blinked at her. “You're trying to help Leia?”

“She misses her son, Dad.”

“I actually know that feeling.” The words slipped out of Obi-Wan before he had a chance to think about it.

A Vader hand reached out and tucked a lock of disheveled— and, to be honest, filthy— hair behind Obi-Wan's ear. Obi-Wan really didn't want more of an apology than that, anyway.

“'sit working?”

Vader shrugged and sat back in his chair. “It's a pretty big castle.”

“And I may be a little bit distracted,” Rey admitted, trying to hide a smile. “I want to bring Finn and Poe here.”

“ _Here_ ?” Obi-Wan burbled, a hand swiping at his swollen-shut eye and coming away with black liner streaked across his knuckles.

Vader kept the place somewhat respectable, Obi-Wan supposed, and Obi-Wan's need to stash things had lessened a bit, but  _still._

For example, the blood all over the floor just inside the door at the moment.

“Poe would love to go to one of Father's races and talk to him about flying. And besides, he's curious. Leia's all but adopted him, and she still hates Father, but Luke and I see things differently, and Poe wants to come up with an opinion of his own. And Finn's important to me.”

Finn might, in fact, be Rey's queerplatonic life partner, with Poe being Rey's metamour since Finn and Poe were rapidly falling in love.

Obi-Wan was peripherally aware of the concept of having to meet his daughter's polycule at  _some point,_ but he'd also added the clause:  _if he wasn't kept secret_ to offer Rey a way out, just in case.

He sold himself. And intentionally let people injure him. Neither of those two things in responsible ways.

_Obi-Wan_ would be ashamed of a father like himself, but Rey didn't seem to mind. She helped take care of him when he was in the mood to allow it, and just did her own thing when he wasn't. She was... comfortable, and having a Light source around when she wasn't busy at her other home with the Resistance was comforting in its own way.

It made him feel like maybe Qui-Gon Jinn wouldn't  _completely_ despise him.

Which was ridiculous.

Of  _course_ Qui-Gon Jinn despised him, and should they ever meet in a possibly-existent afterlife would...

Would disown him. Again.

But there was a beautiful light who  _didn't._ Who, for some inexplicable reason, wanted the people most important in her life to  _meet_ him.

“I won't try to seduce them,” Obi-Wan murmured in promise, sagging forward against the table. He was ready to  _sleep._ His wings splayed down around him, too exhausted to be held up.

Rey gave him a fond smile. “I know you won't.”

“Th're  _yours,_ ” he explained, a little proud of how articulate he was being.

“They'll be polite,” Rey promised in return. “They know what to expect. They won't restrict you two in any way; we'll be very well behaved.”

Something that might have been a giggle escaped Obi-Wan's throat. It kind of hurt.

Vader snorted, then gathered the angel up in his arms to haul him to bed. “And  _I_ promise that Lord Whore will be Lord Whore. And I'm terribly sorry about it.”

“Don't be.” Rey reached up and brushed her thumb over Obi-Wan's cheek before planting a kiss on Vader's cheek. “Night.”

The two Sith stared at one another for a moment, and then Obi-Wan let himself be snuggled by Vader.

Obi-Wan was certainly too tired for anything more than a gentle cuddling, and he supposed he could put Vader's need to cuddle him as something as important as his own needs.

Just this once.

 

 


End file.
